I'm Finally Happy
by conformityissuicide
Summary: Hermione finally realizes what's going to make her life happy once more.


A/N: Alright, so I've decided that my last few stories have been way too happy. I know sounds very angsty. Well, I personally like stories that don't always have happy endings. Life very rarely gives you happily ever after. So, I decided it was time to angst up another story. Well I hope you read it, and hopefully enjoy it. Warning, it is very angsty. And it involves suicide, now that I've given the plot away, please be warned if you don't like that.

Please read and review, tell me what you think I'm begging you, I need reviews. I live off of them, kinda sounds sad, but I do. Review!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter or anything affiliated with it. I just play with it.

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**I'm Finally Happy**

"_She stared at her reflection in the glossed shop windows as if to make sure, moment by moment, that she continued to exist." – The Bell Jar_

I'm falling farther and faster into oblivion. Nothing to live for, no one to go home to. Nothingness has surrounded me here in my empty apartment.

No sign of life. No signal of love and warmth.

If you walked into my apartment you would never know someone lived here. You wouldn't know that someone has lived and breathed in these hollowed halls for more than two years.

For two years I have fallen into darkness. I have fallen into the long, blinding tunnel of obscurity. I have forever fallen away from this earth, this world.

No one is going to miss me.

No one is going to care.

I'm pretty sure no one remembers I exist.

No, don't worry about the girl who helped save Harry Potter's life. No, let's forget about the girl who helped save the entire wizarding world from pure evil.

No, she doesn't matter.

I haven't talked to anyone from school, from my childhood, my time of innocence, for months. I've been walking around this world under a shadow of invisibility.

I don't exist to this world.

Do I? Can you see me? Do I truly exist to everyone outside. I'm not sure I do. I'm pretty sure I don't.

If I died right now, no one would notice I was gone until someone opened the apartment door because the smell of my decomposing body had become unbearable.

No one would notice I was gone until renter's payments were due, until bills had been left unpaid, until the muggle relations department became too disorganized.

No, no one would notice that Hermione was missing until they needed her help or her services.

No one cares I'm living in darkness. No one cares I'm forever haunted by the nagging feeling that I've failed.

Is leaving this world truly an option? Can I end my life now that I've stopped living?

Can you kill someone already dead inside?

Melancholy.

Melancholy, that is what my life is now.

Dark obscurity.

Nothing exists for me anymore. No one bothers to write me, no one bothers to call. I showed up at the Weasleys' house last week, and it took all seven children, their significant others, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley two hours to realize I was there.

Dark obscurity.

Are you sure I still exist? Am I still breathing?

Yes, I'm still breathing in this suffocating air. Yes, this suffocating oxygen is mocking me, mocking me in my shadow.

I know I still live because this blood is running down my arm. The crimson blood, running down my outstretched arm in thin rivers of sadness, reminds me I still exist.

I still exist in the most meaningless definition of the word.

I'm still breathing. Still breathing this hot, stifling air that surrounds me every hour of every day.

Day in and day out I'm mocked by all the happy people passing me on the street. I'm being mocked by little kids playing god knows what stupid little kid game, by the frantic mothers searching for lost children; I'm being mocked by naive teenagers supposedly in love with 'the one,' being mocked by successful, overachieving career people.

But no one sees my suffering, no one cares. This world is better off without me.

No, hold that thought. The world would be no different without me. It doesn't even know I exist anymore.

My reflection in this broken mirror tells me I still exist, but why does my broken soul continue to tell me I don't?

Damn that mirror. Damn those successful people, and those frantic mothers. Damn those love-sick teenagers, and those playful children. Damn them all.

No, my best friend is sitting beside me. The only thing in this entire world that knows I still exist.

My best friend called razor blade.

He slices my arm, draining the darkness and obscurity of my life with the never-ending streams of blood, and reminding me of the way He sliced my heart.

As I sit here on my bathroom floor, remember one thing.

Real life is never predictable. Real life never does anything expected. Real life will never, ever give you a happy ending.

Real life will mock you and your sorry existence until you too will decide to stop going on.

My life is slipping away, at least my physical life is.

I truly left this world many months ago when my heart shattered.

I've been living in obscurity since my tragic ending.

_If you ever read this, remember I gave you everything. Remember all of the good times. Don't remember what I look like now. Actually, don't ever forget what I look like right now._

_Don't forget the pool of blood around my broken body. And don't ever forget you caused my heart to bleed._

_Darkness has truly left me, I'm finally happy._

_Hermione_

"How does this make you happy," he said as he cried over her bloody, lifeless body.

And he thought he distinctly heard her say, "Death has to make someone happy."


End file.
